


L'Extravaganza

by Noppoh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Femslash, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 20:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20494679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noppoh/pseuds/Noppoh
Summary: After the war, Pansy decides to leave everything and everyone behind. On a whim, she opens a club. What will she do when, one day, an unexpected guest walks in?





	L'Extravaganza

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sing Me a Rare: The Soundtracks. Much love to my beta who shall remain nameless until the fest is complete.  
Song Prompt – Express, Christina Aguilara – Burlesque
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made from this creation.

Pansy sipped her drink as she surveyed the room. It was steadily filling up with patrons as the band warmed up by playing soft, background music. She signalled the bartender to fill up her glass.

“Are you sure you should be drinking this much this early in the evening?” he asked.

She shot him a look. “I’ve earned it,” Pansy answered.

“So you have.”

Her glass refilled, Pansy returned her attention to the room, looking for signs of trouble. Earned it, she had. After the war, life had been anything but pretty. The fact that she’d been willing to give up Golden Boy during the Final Battle had not sat well with people and she’d been shunned pretty much everywhere she went.

Stuck at her ancestral home, it became painfully clear — even more than it had before — that she was nothing but a broodmare to her parents. She hardly ever saw them, and on rare occasion that they did end up in the same room, she felt all but invisible. When they did deign to notice her, it was to tell her how her actions had affected the family. A disgrace was what she had become.

In short: life had been hell.

But she had turned the invisibility to good use. Bit by bit, she had started leeching money from the family account to a personal one. Eventually, she left, disappearing entirely from the English wizarding community. 

For a long time, she’d liven the high life. Using the fortune she’d swindled from her parents, she’d travelled through Europe and parts of Asia, partying and taking plenty of lovers along the way. 

Up until the point she had quite literally gotten bored of it. Somehow she’d ended up in France, and in a bout of inspiration — or madness, depending on her mood when reminiscing — she’d started a club. 

The idea had struck her when she’d been searching for safe spots to Apparate in a small town and had ended up breaking into an abandoned building. The interior surprised her with the most beautiful steel structure and brick walls. It had obviously once been a warehouse. She bought it on the spot.

It was also around that time that Blaise had found her. One morning, he had been casually leaning against one of the steel columns, past all her wards. 

“Renovations, Pans?” he’d commented.

She’d rolled her eyes at him. When she had left England, he’d been training to become an Unspeakable. Apparently, if his intrusion and the fact that he found her at all was any indication, he’d made the cut.

“Must you, Blaise?” she’d answered. “At least pretend to be remorseful about breaking my wards and bothering me while you know full well I want to be left alone.”

He stayed a week, helping with the remodelling and teaching her a few handy wards. They’d come to the agreement that he could tell their mutual friends that she was doing well but that he would not share her location with them. Nobody had shown up since, so she figured he’d stuck to his promise.

One of the wards Blaise taught her was meant to detect the entrance of people with a magical signature. Her club was mostly visited by Muggles; she’d put aside her prejudice early in her travels. It didn’t happen that often that a wizard or witch walked in, but when they did, she kept an eye on them. More than once had she caught them Confunding her staff into thinking they’d already paid their substantial tab. 

It was the twinge of that particular ward that made her turn towards the entrance. She stiffened at the very familiar sight of black hair with a blonde streak and a posture that shamed the entire elite of Wizarding England. 

With effort, Pansy relaxed her shoulders and took another sip of her drink. Narcissa _bloody _Malfoy had just walked into her club. Of all the people, it had to be her. Pansy wracked her brain, trying to figure out what she knew of the woman’s activities since the war, while she watched Narcissa address Robert, the bouncer that guarded the VIP section.

Pansy almost felt sorry for Robert as she saw Narcissa tilt her head in a way that conveyed annoyed arrogance to anyone who knew her well enough. She watched how Robert talked to her, no doubt informing her of the fee required to enter the VIP section. Narcissa’s glare could have convinced a block of ice to freeze just a little bit harder.

Unsurprisingly, a minute later, Robert let her enter.

Still observing the woman, Pansy thought back to the days she’d still lived at home. Not long after the war, Narcissa had filed for divorce. It had been all over the socialite pages. She’d forced Lucius to relinquish almost a quarter of his fortune, including two properties. Their locations had been left out of the papers.

After the divorce, there had been no more news of Narcissa Malfoy. Well, it was probably back to Narcissa Black now. She had most likely done exactly the same as Pansy had; disappeared to enjoy her new life.

How that had led to her entering the club, however, Pansy had no idea. Too many memories came flooding back as she watched Narcissa order some drinks with an absent wave of her hand. 

Pansy was grateful for the interruption when Christa — her manager — sat down next to her.

“It seems we have a new VIP guest today,” Christa commented.

“So it seems,” Pansy answered. “The section is yours today, Christa. I’m not in the mood for it.”

Christa turned towards Pansy, surprised. “But, you always greet new VIPs.”

“Not this time,” Pansy answered with a shrug, watching Narcissa accept her drink with a lazy, dismissive wave of her hand. “As I said, I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Christa. Old memories and all that.”

With a nod, Christa relented. She knew, just like all personnel in the bar, not to ask about Pansy’s past. It wasn’t like she could explain the wizarding war to Muggles, and neither did she enjoy being remembered of it, so Pansy had made sure her personnel knew that her past was completely off limits. 

As if on cue, the lights dimmed. A spotlight lit the centre of the stage, illuminating Michael.

“Bonsoir tout-le-monde!” he cried out. “Bienvenue à l’Extravaganza!”*

Pansy tuned out the rest of his speech, having learned it by heart a long time ago. He improvised here and there to keep the regulars entertained, but the message was always the same: Respect the dancers and enjoy the show.

Eventually, Michael walked off stage, the musicians took up their instruments, and the grand opening act started. Pansy used the light to further study Narcissa. She was leaning back in her chair, her posture somewhat more relaxed than Pansy had ever seen in all her years in England. Still, there was no denying the poise and elegance she still carried.

If she was honest with herself, Pansy had always envied the natural grace Narcissa seemed to have. No matter how hard Pansy had tried, she had never been able to pull it off. She had looked elegant _enough_, but it had never felt nor looked natural.

With a sigh, she hopped off her stool and walked towards her office. There was no need to risk Narcissa seeing and recognising her. The witch was probably just passing by, attracted by the fame the club had garnered. She was behind on her paperwork anyway. Now was as good a time as any to catch up.

Only, the next week, Narcissa walked back into the club. Pansy was helping behind the bar when the tingling of the wards had her looking up. Narcissa walked towards the VIP section as if she owned the entire place and, this time, the bouncer easily stepped aside. It earned him a small nod.

“Hey, you okay?”

Pansy looked up at the inquiry, snapping out of her astonished daze. “Yes. What can I get you?”

She continued on for another half hour until the missing barman came rushing in. Switching being behind the bar for a drink in front of it, Pansy finally took the time to contemplate how to deal with Narcissa being there. Again.

For a moment, she wondered if Blaise had tattled about her but then she quickly dismissed the notion. If that had been the case, Narcissa would have asked for her by now. However strange, the odds were more likely that it _was_ just a coincidence and that, like so many others, Narcissa had liked her previous visit enough to return. 

Still, that left the question of how to deal with it. 

“That posh, British lady is back,” Christa announced unnecessarily, having come up to Pansy seemingly only for the announcement.

“I noticed,” Pansy dryly answered.

Christa was a good manager, but sometimes her talkative nature really got on Pansy’s nerves. Her habit of stating the obvious was so Gryffindorish that Pansy almost expected her to proudly start wearing burgundy and gold.

“You want me to take the VIP section again tonight?”

Pansy looked at her. “What gave you that idea?”

“Uhm.” Christa faltered. “I kind of assumed she’s, well, someone from your past?” She quickly raised her hands in surrender at Pansy’s glare. “I know, I know, you don’t talk about it. But you never give up the VIP section unless there’s a fire going or something. I just figured…” She tapered off at the end, her words for once failing her.

It irked Pansy that Christa had made the connection. And if she had, so had others. That simply wouldn’t do.

“No need,” she said. “The VIP is mine, as usual. You take care of the rest of the floor.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Before Christa could say anything else, Pansy hopped off her stool and wound her way between the many tables. A voice in her head was screaming at her to stop; screaming that it was a bad idea to let anyone know where she was, especially a woman like Narcissa. What if Narcissa still had connections with her mother?

Pansy shook her head, disguising it as throwing her shoulder length hair out of her face, and took a fortifying breath. It was better to announce her presence than to have Narcissa find out any other way. At least this way, she had the element of surprise on her side.

She walked up to Narcissa and folded herself into the chair next to the witch. Life out of high society had made Pansy rougher around the edges and she felt it keenly now that she had Narcissa to compare herself with. Ignoring the disquiet it caused, she uttered a greeting.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

From the corner of her eye, Pansy could see Narcissa turn her head towards her.

“I could say the same,” she answered.

“Not really.”

Silence fell. It was a typical Slytherin tactic; let the silence grow uncomfortable and watch the other spill their secrets when they can’t stand it anymore. Slytherin against Slytherin, however, this was bound to take a long time, if any ever broke the silence at all.

A waiter interrupted the growing tension by bringing Narcissa’s drink. Pansy eyed her movements as she gracefully accepted it.

“Anything for you, boss?” the waiter asked.

“No, thank you, Paul.”

Narcissa took a careful sip of her champagne. “This establishment is yours?”

“It is.”

“That explains the wards at the door.”

“Noticed those, have you?”

“They’re subtle enough.”

Another silence fell between them. Narcissa was casually sipping her drink while Pansy pretended to survey the room. Instead, she kept watching Narcissa from the corner of her eye. There was something magnetic about her.

It was glaringly obvious to both women that they were curious about what had happened to the other, but neither ventured to question. Years of Pureblood training, combined with a reluctance to speak about their own experiences, held them silent.

They were once more saved by Paul. The waiter walked up to Pansy, excused himself to Narcissa, and bend low to whisper into Pansy’s ear.

“Natasha is being her usual self again,” he said. “Michael thinks it best if you come intervene.”

Pansy sighed and nodded. Having delivered his message, Paul walked off again.

“It seems I’m needed elsewhere,” Pansy said, standing. She turned to face Narcissa full-on. “I value my privacy,” she added, knowing the woman would understand.

“So do I,” was the answer.

“Enjoy your evening, Mada-” Pansy faltered, not sure which was the correct way to address her now. It made her feel out of place.

Narcissa looked up at her for a moment, her eyes calculating — or was it searching?

“Narcissa,” she said eventually, looking away again. “You may call me Narcissa.”

Pansy stared at her. Address her by her first name? Unless you were close friends, that went against every etiquette rule she had ever learned.

“Right,” she managed to say, recovering from her shock. “Enjoy your evening, Narcissa.”

She turned and quickly walked away. It felt awfully intimate to say Narcissa’s name like that. She was sure it had sounded awkward. 

Shaking her head, Pansy made her way to the backstage door. It bothered her how one small, barely-there conversation with Narcissa had shaken her self-confidence. It wasn’t something she usually lacked, which had gotten her into trouble more than once. An outspoken, self-confident girl wasn’t accepted in their society. Meek, that’s what she was supposed to be. And then you were supposed to bloom under the guidance of your husband. 

Pansy snorted. Those rules had never appealed to her.

She winced when she turned a corner towards the dressing rooms and the rapid French in an absolutely bitchy tone assaulted her ears. Perhaps, she thought, too much self-confidence wasn’t a good thing either.

“Ça suffit!”** she yelled over the fighting dancers. 

It was always Natasha that was bitching about, commenting on the other dancer’s appearances or private lives. Pansy had more than once considered firing her, but she _was_ one of the best dancers she had and thus would be difficult to replace. 

With another sigh, she started sorting out the mess Natasha had once again created. After a few minutes, the dancers were dispatched, Natasha replaced for the next act and dragged into Pansy’s office. She wished she had as cold a look as Narcissa could give. Perhaps then, Natasha would understand exactly how aggravating she was.

After an unpleasant conversation and a threat of unemployment if she didn’t change her behaviour, Pansy let Natasha return to the stage. In need of a drink, she found her way back to the bar, ordering a whisky. It didn’t take long before Paul was once more standing next to her.

“Don’t tell me she’s going at it again?” Pansy growled.

“Uhm, no,” Paul answered, looking a bit confused and baffled. “That new VIP, the classy lady, she asked for you. Uhm, she said, and I quote ‘Bring Miss Parkinson to me, if you please.’ What should I tell her?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Nothing,” she answered. “I’ll go.”

“_What_?” Paul exclaimed. “But- But, you’re not to be summoned. That’s one of the first rules of the VIP-section.”

“I know my own rules, Paul,” Pansy answered dryly. 

“But—” 

Pansy ignored his further confused protestations and hopped off her barstool. She could hear Paul whisper to one of the barmen behind her, but she ignored that too. They were right, of course. Usually, she would draw a line at being summoned to the VIP section unless there was a good reason for it. But years of habit and, if she was honest with herself, sheer curiosity, had her answering Narcissa’s request.

“I’m no longer a little girl that has to obey you, you know,” she commented as she settled herself back in the seat next to Narcissa.

“Yet, here you are.”

Pansy grumbled, causing Narcissa to glance at her. Expecting to be reprimanded for her uncouth behaviour, Pansy froze, but there seemed to be only curiosity in Narcissa’s gaze. 

“So, what do you need me for?” Pansy asked, figuring it didn’t count as caving for her curiosity if she’d been requested in the first place.

Narcissa seemed to stiffen slightly. “I find myself … curious.”

For the second time that evening, Pansy stared at Narcissa with astonishment. 

“You’re not the only one who has changed, Miss Parkinson.” It sounded reluctant.

“Pansy.”

Again, Narcissa regarded her. “Pansy,” she agreed.

“What do you want to know?” Pansy asked as the lights dimmed for the next act.

Narcissa ignored the dancers on the stage and gave her full attention to Pansy. There was still some tension in her face, betraying how uncomfortable she was with directly asking for information.

“Last I knew, you were still living at home.”

Pansy snorted. “You call that home?”

Narcissa winced and Pansy frowned. She decided to leave it be for the time being.

“I was treated like a broodmare,” she continued. “As my _parents_ loved to tell me, my actions at the Final Battle diminished ‘my worth’, making it difficult to find someone suitable who would ‘want me’. I made an agreement with Gringotts and siphoned money to a private account. Then I left. Simple as that. Packed my things and walked out of the Mansion to never look back.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It was. My parents didn’t pay attention to me and I ordered the elves not to tell on me until I was out of the country.”

“What about Dra— your friends?”

“That was the only hard part about it, leaving them behind as well.” Pansy shrugged minutely. “Blaise found me when I was setting this place up. He promised to keep my location a secret but he would tell them I was doing fine.”

“Mister Zabini?” Narcissa questioned, a shrewd look on he face.

“Yes,” Pansy answered, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “Why?”

“I ran into him a couple of months ago. He suggested I ‘go south’ to occupy the French house I swindled out from under _dear Lucius’_ nose and then south some more.”

“Where’s this house of yours?” Pansy asked.

Narcissa shot her a _look_, warning her not to pry too much, before answering, “North of here.”

“I see.” 

Apparently, Pansy had a letter to write to one meddlesome Unspeakable.

“It would seem you’ve been selective regarding the people you socialise with ever since you left,” Narcissa ventured.

“It seemed logical, especially at the time.”

“Things change.”

“They definitely do.” 

Pansy sighed inwardly as they fell into yet another silence and decided to give their etiquette the middle finger. She slouched back in her chair, realising she’d been holding herself stiff ever since she’d seen Narcissa.

“I don’t mingle with a lot of Magicals at the moment,” she offered. “It makes social life a bit … limited. You can’t fully relax among Muggles lest you use magic out of habit. My office is so heavily warded against accidental exposure of magic that I’m surprised even the Muggles don’t feel the wards buzzing when they walk through the door.”

Narcissa let out a little snort, causing Pansy to blink, then smile. It was refreshing to see Narcissa relax, even if it was only so little. 

“I am familiar with the problem,” Narcissa answered. 

“You mingled with Muggles?” Pansy asked, astonished.

“I got bored; it was better than nothing.”

“And your current viewpoint?”

Narcissa raised an elegant eyebrow. “I walked into a Muggle club, did I not?”

“You did,” Pansy agreed. “And did you return to a Muggle club? Or did you return to a club that’s warded?”

“Both.”

Pansy remained silent, waiting for her to elaborate. 

“I would have returned even if it had been merely a Muggle bar,” Narcissa continued, sounding slightly annoyed with offering up the information, “but I admit that the idea that there was at least one witch or wizard here made it more appealing.” She tilted her head minutely. “I would never have expected it to be you.”

“Bothersome?”

“I value my privacy,” she echoed Pansy’s words from earlier.

Pansy hummed a short laugh. “No way of telling them about you without telling them about me. I’m definitely _not_ planning on doing that.”

“Then I don’t mind at all.” There was a small pause. “You were always different from the rest.”

“Thanks?” Pansy answered, unsure of what that meant.

The corner of Narcissa’s mouth twitched into a smile. “It’s a good thing. At least, that’s what I believe now.”

“Right.”

Narcissa looked at her. “You’re positively slouching,” she commented.

“Why should I care?”

“Presentation always matters.”

Pansy snorted. “Even if I were to sit at my finest, I would look like a pleb compared to you.” 

Narcissa leaned over, an odd look in her eyes. “Is that what you think?” she murmured.

“Uhm.” 

Pansy felt out of her depth. Narcissa’s behaviour confused her and she had absolutely no idea how to react. Instead, she excused herself.

“If there’s nothing else, Narcissa,” she said, trying to keep her voice even and her manner in control, “I should really get back to running the club. I’ve got other guests to chat with and bitching dancers to deal with.”

“Bitching dancers?” Narcissa repeated.

“Don’t get me started.”

“Then I won’t. I will also leave you to your job. It was a pleasure talking to you, Pansy.”

“And to you,” Pansy responded.

With half her mind on everything that _hadn’t_ been said during the conversation, Pansy did her obligatory round of the VIP section. It took her about an hour, with every one of them wanting to chat about inconsequential things. When she was finally finished, she looked up to see that Narcissa had left.

The pang of loss and, somehow, regret, bothered her for days on end. She told herself she wasn’t hoping for Narcissa to come back, wasn’t looking forward to it. No, on the contrary, having Narcissa in her bar was risky. She knew she was lying to herself, then promptly ignored that too. Just as she ignored the joy she felt when Narcissa did return a week later.

However, the VIP section was already full that evening. Pansy watched as Narcissa talked to the bouncer and how she flicked her head in annoyance. Deciding to help Robert out, she made her way over to them.

“How can your VIP section be _full?_” Narcissa said without so much as a greeting.

“Come join me at the bar,” Pansy answered, gesturing.

Narcissa made an annoyed sound but followed.

“There’s a new show on tonight,” Pansy explained as they meandered between the tables. “Every two months we change at least half the acts in the show. A lot of the regulars come for bragging rights, wanting to tell everybody they were among the first to see it. It’s gotten a bit ridiculous, but it’s good for business.” 

Pansy shrugged and settled herself back on her barstool. She watched with a small smile as Narcissa daintily settled herself on another one.

“Two whiskeys,” she ordered the barmaid. “My bottle, the special glasses.”

“Yes, boss.” 

The barmaid moved to the far end of the bar and rummaged underneath it. Narcissa raised an eyebrow and Pansy smirked. 

“You’ll see.”

The barmaid returned and carefully poured out two glasses of whiskey. Pansy watched as Narcissa narrowed her eyes and studied the drinks. If you knew to watch for it, you could see a light shimmer on the glass.

“An illusion?” she asked as soon as the barmaid was out of earshot.

Pansy nodded and sipped her drink, still watching the other woman.

“Firewhiskey?” Narcissa exclaimed in surprise. “An illusion to hide the flames?”

“Exactly,” Pansy answered feeling pleased. “Does this make up for the lack of VIP seating?”

“As long as you stay here to safeguard me from the plebeians.”

Pansy snorted. “Sure thing.”

There was a small silence until Pansy decided to take a risk.

“May I ask what you’ve been doing? Evers since you left?”

Narcissa eyed her warily and Pansy shrugged, indicating she was merely curious.

“I spent a long time in Italy,” Narcissa answered. “Resting. Wondering what to do next. Trying not to think too hard about all that had happened.” She sighed. “When I got bored, I started travelling. I spent some time in Greece, in Egypt, in Malaysia, Thailand... But eventually, I got bored with that as well, so I returned to the house in Italy. 

“I made friends, sort of, and got into interior design.” She smiled in remembrance. “I decorated some truly gorgeous estates. I got myself a manager so I wouldn’t be bothered with the paperwork and all. She got me a job in the Netherlands, where our mutual friend bumped into me.”

“Somehow, I doubt he ‘bumped’ at all. That man knows too much, sees too much, and likes to meddle.”

“I don’t disagree.”

“Are you working on a project right now?”

“No. I’m quite pricey, you know.”

“I can imagine,” Pansy replied with a grin. “One has to pay for quality.”

Narcissa laughed lightly. “Exactly that.” She tilted her head towards Pansy. “You?”

“Much the same,” Pansy answered. “Although I never settled down anywhere, and I guess I partied a lot more too.” She waved her arm, indicating the entire club. “This is what happened when boredom struck me.”

They sipped their whiskey in silence, watching the lights go down and the first act coming on the stage. Pansy smiled when the crowd greeted it with raucous applause. A small sigh of relief escaped her when the first quarter of the show passed by without any problems.

“Draco would love this,” Narcissa whispered.

“Ha! He definitely would,” Pansy commented having overheard. She looked at Narcissa and was surprised to see the woman looking troubled. Frowning, she waited to see if Narcissa would say anything more.

“Do you communicate with your friend Zabini a lot?” Narcissa eventually asked even though it seemed to pain her.

“Not so much,” Pansy answered honestly. “One letter every two or three months, nothing more.”

“Have you informed him of my presence yet?”

“No.” 

After some thought, Pansy had decided against writing that angry letter to the meddlesome Unspeakable. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing his ploy had worked — if he didn’t know already, that was.

“Why?” Pansy risked asking when Narcissa stayed silent.

“I left him behind as well, you know,” Narcissa whispered in answer, taking a gulp of her whiskey instead of the dainty sips she had been using before.

“Who?” Pansy asked in confusion. “Blaise?”

“Draco.”

“Oh.”

“Our relation wasn’t good right after the war. He avoided both his father and me.”

“I know,” Pansy admitted when Narcissa fell silent again.

“Then I left. Cut everybody off.” She turned to regard Pansy with sad eyes. “Were not that different, you and I, in that regard.” She blinked slowly and turned to stare over the crowd again. “I left him as well.”

Pansy didn’t know how to react to this sudden change in Narcissa’s demeanour, to the sudden vulnerability. She felt the need to reach out to her, to touch her cheek, to acknowledge the tears she could see brimming in those beautiful eyes.

“You want me to enquire after him?” she asked in a soft tone. “I can offer very little now, other than that he lives in an apartment in London and is apparently very popular with the ladies.”

Narcissa laughed under her breath. “He certainly has the looks for it.”

“And the Slytherin charm.”

“Pureblood grace.”

“And a bad boy background.”

“Exactly his father,” Narcissa mused with a shake of her head.

“Blaise will keep him straight, though.”

“That’s good to hear.” There was a short silence. “Don’t mention it just yet,” she said, sounding distant. “I’ll think about it.”

Pansy gave a small smile and a short nod. “As you wish.”

She signalled for their glasses to be refilled as they watched the second act of the show. When it finished, Pansy realised she could postpone her tasks no longer and turned to Narcissa with regret.

“I really must be getting up there,” she said with a gesture towards the VIP section. “They’ll be coming to find me if I don’t go up there to discuss the show with them.”

Narcissa nodded. “Don’t let me keep you from your work,” she said.

After ordering the bar to give Narcissa whatever she wanted, including the special bottles of whiskey, and after a short goodbye, Pansy left the brooding woman to deal with her guests. They all had something to say to her, be it praise, a comment, or some unnecessary information about their private lives. Pansy smiled through it all. 

Before she managed to see all of them, she got called away for a minor costume issue, and once she got back, they all wanted to talk to her again. It drove her wild, but she used all of her Pureblood training to stay polite. Happy customers brought in cash. Especially when those customers were awfully rich.

Most of the non-VIP guests had already left after the show had ended when she finally managed to extricate herself from the last table. The bar was bound to close in an hour and she desperately needed another whiskey. As she headed back towards the bar, she was surprised to find Narcissa still sitting there, in the same spot as before.

“Still here?” Pansy commented, stating the obvious.

Narcissa shrugged. Pansy eyed the whiskey bottle and noted that the woman had consumed a fair amount of it. Too tired to be bothered with propriety, Pansy took Narcissa’s glass and gulped down what was left in it.

“Bold,” Narcissa commented. 

Pansy didn’t respond, refilling the glass.

“I didn’t feel like being alone tonight,” Narcissa said, barely above a whisper.

“You’ve had too much to drink.”

“It didn’t solve the feeling.”

“You should have come up to the VIP section then, after the Gaudiners left during the third act. Plenty of single men up there to choose from. They’re trying to get into my panties all the time.”

“I’ve had enough of men.”

Pansy turned towards her, surprised, only to find Narcissa was already watching her. 

“No more men?” Pansy stated dumbly, feeling nervous under Narcissa’s stare.

“They’re boring. Boorish too. And I can’t really let go when it’s a Muggle.”

“Oh. And the, uhm, alternative?”

A half-smile twitched Narcissa’s lips. She reached out to drag her fingers through Pansy’s hair. “You know the alternative.”

“You’ve had too much to drink,” Pansy repeated. 

Her heart was beating so hard she imagined she could hear it and she was having a hard time keeping her breath even. No way this was happening. No way that Narcissa was actually proposing what Pansy thought she was proposing. Her fantasy was running wild and Pansy forced her mind to calm down.

“Perhaps,” Narcissa relented, “but I know perfectly well what I’m doing, Pansy.” 

Pansy shuddered at the way Narcissa all but purred her name. She felt electrified when Narcissa leaned closer, placing her mouth next to Pansy’s ear.

“Where’s that office of yours?”

She pulled back with a small hum. Pansy stared at her, wide-eyed, her mind jumbled, and causing Narcissa to smirk in a self-satisfied way. When Christa walked past, Pansy grabbed her by the elbow, not looking away from Narcissa.

“You’re locking up tonight.”

“Boss?”

“You’re locking the place up. Leaving last. All that.”

“Are you sure, boss?”

“Yes,” Pansy said, more to Narcissa than to Christa. “Yes, I am.” She finally glanced at her manager. “I’ll be leaving through the backdoor in a bit.”

“Okay.” 

Christa sounded more perplexed than certain, but Pansy didn’t care. She turned her eyes back on Narcissa.

“Would you,” she stuttered and licked her lips, feeling silly for feeling nervous. “If you would join me in my office?” she managed to say.

A smile slowly spread across Narcissa’s face, lighting up her eyes. Pansy exhaled at her beauty. The thought that this was happening felt surreal. It made her wonder if she had misread the signs somehow; if this wasn’t what she thought it was.

Nevertheless, she lowered herself from her barstool and made her way towards her office. Narcissa was following close behind. Pansy could feel her presence at her back. When they stepped through the door, Narcissa hissed in surprise.

“The Muggles don’t notice this?” she asked, incredulous. She turned around and studied the closed door. “Impressive,” she noted a few wand-waves later.

“Thank you.” 

Pansy was lingering in front of her desk, not really knowing what to do and trying desperately to remember how clean her apartment was. Why did Narcissa make her so nervous even though she’d had plenty of female lovers before?

“So,” Narcissa said, stretching the word. “They won’t notice us here?”

“Not when the door’s closed, no,” Pansy answered. 

She watched as Narcissa stalked up to her, suddenly understanding why Narcissa had also been both feared and envied for her beauty. An uncertain step back made Pansy bump into her desk. 

“Nervous?” Narcissa teased, coming to stand in front of Pansy and cupping her cheek.

“It would appear so.” 

Pansy felt frozen, waiting, wondering what Narcissa would do. She wondered what the woman’s skin would feel like under her hands, how soft her lips would be when she kissed them. She wondered what it would look like to see Narcissa abandon herself to pleasure.

“I’m going to have fun with you,” Narcissa murmured. 

Pansy’s breath hitched when a thumb gently brushed her lips. 

“A burlesque club, Miss Parkinson?” Narcissa continued, moving closer and placing a hand on Pansy’s hip. “I can see how you react to the music, the way you look at the dancers. There’s sensuality in you, a desire to lose yourself.” She moved closer still, her breath hot against Pansy’s ear. “Don’t you want to lose yourself with me?”

Pansy groaned in response, her body feeling too hot and on the verge of exploding. She wanted more; she wanted it all, and Narcissa’s chuckle made her want to give up control, abandon everything to this woman in front of her.

She couldn’t help the strangled sound that escaped her when Narcissa’s fingers caressed her neck before disappearing in her hair. Nails scratched Pansy’s scalp, making her shiver and close her eyes. 

When Narcissa’s lips touched hers, she surged forward, finally unfreezing and wrapping her arms around Narcissa’s back. The taste of whiskey still lingered on her lips and Pansy eagerly licked them. Narcissa laughed at the exuberant reaction. The hand on Pansy’s hip tightened momentarily before it moved upward to tease Pansy’s ribs.

“Can we Apparate from here?” Narcissa murmured, moving her mouth along Pansy’s jawline.

“Yes.”

“The Muggles won’t hear?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Pansy felt herself being pulled into Apparition. She barely had time to admire the cream coloured bedroom they arrived in before Narcissa was kissing her again. Their kiss turned hungry, needy, their hands exploring.

“I want you naked,” Narcissa whispered into Pansy’s ear once they came up for air. She took a step back and Pansy whined at her sudden absence. “Take off your clothes.” Narcissa demanded.

With trembling fingers, Pansy pulled her blouse out of her jeans and started undoing the buttons. The beating of her heart was loud in her ears. Narcissa was watching her every move, her eyes dark and her lower lip caught between her teeth. Her hair was in disarray, having partially come loose from the pins that had held it back. Pansy thought the woman looked glorious.

“Keep the underwear,” Narcissa said as Pansy reached around to undo her bra. “I want to take those off myself.”

Pansy made an indistinct sound and moved to the button and zipper of her jeans after inelegantly having taken off her shoes. Narcissa hummed appreciatively as Pansy pushed the jeans over her bum. Part of her felt self-conscious, standing naked in front of Narcissa, part of her felt turned on by the hot look in Narcissa’s eyes. 

Not wanting to be the only one without clothes, Pansy walked up to her. 

“Your turn,” she whispered to the slightly taller woman. 

Narcissa reached up to the buttons on her own blouse, having discarded her jacket earlier, but Pansy pushed her hands away.

“Let me,” she said, licking her lips and focussing intently on the buttons and the skin they revealed. 

Narcissa started stroking Pansy’s sides and stomach, driving her to insanity. Unable to withstand her own needs any longer, Pansy leaned forward and started kissing Narcissa’s chest, licking along the edge of her cream, lace-trimmed bra. Narcissa sighed. Her caressing hands firmly gripped Pansy’s waist. 

Finally, Pansy could pull the blouse off, caressing Narcissa’s shoulders and arms along the way. Instead of reaching around to open the zipper of Narcissa’s pencil skirt, she walked around. Her hands roamed Narcissa’s back and neck, causing her to shiver and sigh softly. Pansy kissed along her neck and shoulder while opening the zipper and pushing down the skirt. 

As it fell to the floor, Narcissa stepped out of it and turned around. Her eyes were burning. Pansy lost her breath to their gaze.

For a moment, both stood still, watching each other. Then, Pansy bit her lip and Narcissa lunged forward. Their mouths crashed upon one another, hands urgently touched as much skin as they could reach. Gone was the gentleness from earlier, the careful exploration. In its stead was a heady need. It left the desire to _feel_, to reconnect with memories long forgotten so that they could be forgotten once more. 

They found their way to the bed, bras and panties leaving a trail behind them. The bed was soft, the sheets cool against her skin, but Pansy barely noticed, too wrapped up in Narcissa. She crawled higher up the bed; Narcissa followed her, then pinned her down.

Pansy cried out when Narcissa promptly wrapped her mouth around a nipple, sucking lightly. Teeth scraped the sensitive flesh and Pansy arched up. She struggled against Narcissa’s hold. The woman was surprisingly strong.

“Let me touch you,” she begged when she couldn’t free herself.

“Hmm,” Narcissa hummed as she slowly kissed and licked her way to the other breast, “not yet.”

“Please!”

“No.”

Any further protest was cut short when Narcissa reached her destination, repeating her ministrations on the other nipple. Pansy panted, overcome with sensations. She wrapped a leg around Narcissa’s, pushing her wet core against the woman’s hip. 

“I want you,” Pansy moaned.

“So beautiful,” Narcissa muttered, finally releasing Pansy’s hands.

Pansy immediately pulled her arms down, wanting to embrace Narcissa, only to find her moving down the bed. With a frustrated sound, Pansy pushed herself up to her elbows, intent on pulling Narcissa back, only to crash down to the bed again with a surprised yelp as Narcissa blew gently against her wet core.

She looked down, seeing Narcissa smirk up at her. She opened Pansy’s folds and flicked her clit with the tip of her tongue. Pansy mewled, bucking her hips. Laughing lightly, Narcissa wrapped an arm around Pansy’s waist to keep her down, planting kisses on the insides of her thighs and sucking lightly on the swollen lips. 

Pansy swore. “Stop teasing me!”

“Why ever would I?”

“Please. Narcissa, please.”

Pansy rolled her hips, clawing at the sheets. Narcissa’s ministrations were driving her insane. She loudly cried out when Narcissa finally flicked her clit again, then bit her fist to tone herself down.

“Oh, cry out all you want, Pansy, dear,” Narcissa purred. “Nobody can hear you here.”

A strangled noise escaped Pansy at the words. It had been so long since she had been able to completely let go, to moan without restraint, not having to worry about the neighbours hearing because she couldn’t cast a Silencio with her Muggle lover nearby.

She moaned when Narcissa slowly, very slowly, pushed a finger inside, then mewled when she held it there, unmoving.

“Do you even know how lovely you look, Pansy?”

“Don’t care,” Pansy groaned in response. “_Move._”

Narcissa chuckled and did as requested, causing Pansy to cry out again and arch her back. When Narcissa added a second finger and started lapping at her clit, she couldn’t help the way her thighs clasped around Narcissa’s head, nor the way she was convulsively clawing at the sheets. 

She lost all reason, the world narrowing down to the sensations Narcissa was causing. Her body felt on fire. She knew she was making things hard for Narcissa with all her writhing, but she couldn’t stop. Unintelligible words and sounds bounced of the room’s walls. 

“Close, so close,” she managed to groan.

Narcissa hummed in response and curled her fingers. Pansy cried out, tumbling over the edge and headlong into her orgasm. The muscles in her back were strung tight, her body shivering through wave upon wave of ecstasy. Narcissa kept her pace steady throughout it, prolonging it as much as possible.

Pansy breathed heavily as she came down from her high. Bleary-eyed, she looked down at Narcissa who was slowly kissing her way up Pansy’s body. Pansy smiled and nudged Narcissa’s chin to pull her up faster. She wanted to kiss her, mindless of her own taste on Narcissa’s tongue.

They snogged for a good while, simply enjoying each other’s touch, until Pansy slipped her hand between them. Narcissa hissed in surprise, then groaned with need.

“You didn’t think I would leave you hanging, now did you?” Pansy asked, her voice as teasing as the hand that moved between Narcissa’s legs.

Narcissa merely moaned in response. She turned from her side to lie on her back, her eyes shut and her lower lip between her teeth. Pansy leaned in to kiss along her neck, nipping and sucking along the way. Narcissa snarled at a particularly hard nip and Pansy pushed herself up to look at her.

“Don’t mark me,” Narcissa said, eyes burning.

“Oh,” Pansy said, smirking, “but I want to.”

“Pansy…” she growled warningly. It didn’t sound very convincing.

“Then stop me,” Pansy answered, nipping at a breast and firming her touch on Narcissa’s pussy.

“Bitch,” Narcissa groaned.

Pansy laughed. “Definitely.”

Narcissa’s moans and Pansy’s kisses were the only sounds in the room for a long time as Pansy slowly worked Narcissa into a frenzy. She was writhing on the bed, one hand buried in the sheets, the other wrapped around Pansy and on occasion scratching her back. More than once did Narcissa pull Pansy up for a wild kiss, overflowing with need.

“I won’t beg,” Narcissa managed to say between whimpers.

“Then what are you going to do?” Pansy asked playfully, flicking her tongue over a nipple. “Ask nicely?”

“Pansy!’

“Hmm?”

Pansy twisted her fingers, finding a sensitive spot. Narcissa cried out, arching up.

“Stop. Your. Teasing.”

“Are you sure?” Pansy whispered into her ear.

“Yes!”

“As you wish.”

Pansy picked up the pace of her movements, finally pumping her fingers at a decent speed. Narcissa moaned loud, her hips moving in time with Pansy’s fingers and her nails digging hard into Pansy’s back. 

Seeing Narcissa writhe like that made Pansy feel hot all over again, but she ignored it. Instead, she licked around a nipple, teasing, not touching it, causing Narcissa’s movements to go erratic. Seeing Narcissa scrunch her eyes closed, Pansy curled her fingers and at the same time sucked hard on the nipple she’d been teasing.

With a cry, Narcissa fell apart. She bucked and arched her back, both hands now firmly gripping the sheets. She shuddered through her release, small mewling sounds escaping her. Pansy watched, mesmerised, at how this normally regal woman lost composure. It was arousing. Glorious. 

Once Narcissa slumped down, spent, Pansy licked he fingers clean. Narcissa stared at her, groaning softly at the sight. Pansy smirked and Narcissa reached up, pulling her in for another kiss.

“You could go again, couldn’t you?” Narcissa whispered against Pansy’s lips.

“I feel like I could go all night.”

Narcissa hummed, placing Pansy’s head on her shoulder. “In a bit,” she murmured.

Pansy settled down, relaxing and tracing patterns on Narcissa’s stomach. Her mind was trying to catch up, trying to believe what had just happened. She had trouble believing this gorgeous woman had allowed her in her bed. It was downright amazing.

“What are you thinking about?” Narcissa murmured.

“How lucky I am to be here,” Pansy answered honestly.

“Still with the self-doubt.”

“Well,” Pansy said. “You’re … you.”

Narcissa huffed a laugh. “You know?” she said. “I think I like this corner of France. I think I’m going to stay here for a while.”

Pansy felt her heart skip a beat and she flattened her hand on Narcissa’s stomach in surprise. “I think I would really like that,” she whispered in answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> * Goodevening everybody. Welcome to l’Extravaganza.
> 
> ** That’s enough!


End file.
